


Hawkeye's Home for Adrift Superheroes

by Skysalla



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Comics/Movie Crossover, Community: be_compromised, Deaf Clint, F/M, Gen, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Spoilers, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 02:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2174847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skysalla/pseuds/Skysalla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has a tendency to take in strays. Former Russian assassins, dogs, spoiled rich kids and now...spiders?<br/>Crossover between Amazing Spider-Man, Hawkeye Comics, and MCU. Yeah it all blends together with bits and pieces from each.</p><p>Spoilers for ASM2 (major) and Fraction’s Hawkeye comics (minor).</p><p>Written for the prompt on Be_Compromised promptahon:<br/>Hawkeye meets Spider Man on a roof. As you do.<br/>Natasha wants to know what is it with Clint and these young wannabe superhero idiots.<br/>Avengers/Amazing Spider Man, also featuring Kate from Hawkeye comics and possibly other youngsters?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hawkeye's Home for Adrift Superheroes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inkvoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkvoices/gifts).



> Lovely thanks to Jess, Petra and Koren for looking this over. You guys made it like 10000x better than it would have been.

Clint groans and opens his eyes. He’s on his back staring at the darkened sky. There would probably be stars visible up there if he lived outside the city. Of course outside the city he wouldn’t have a job. The smell of burgers hits him and the memory that he’d been on the roof grilling comes back.

There’s a steady stream of unintelligible chatter coming from his left somewhere and the harder Clint listens to it the more he realizes that the voice is not one he recognizes. His left ear feels off and Clint thinks numbly that he must have lost his hearing aid - he was really going to have to get something that would stay in better. 

“I’m sorry. Please don’t be dead. I really didn’t mean t-” The voice is moving closer to him now and the words are easier to make out through the pain in his head. Obviously whoever it is needs to make sure that Clint is okay so he forces himself to start moving.

“Do you need me to call someone?” Clint sits up and looks around for whoever it is that keeps talking to him. Ever since they lost Grills - GILL he had to remind himself - the communal rooftop barbeques had ended and Clint knew for a fact he had been alone up here.

Then he spotted the man perched on the edge of his rooftop. He was actually perched too, his arms gently resting on the edge of the building between his legs. The squat looked uncomfortable to Clint, but not any more so than the full body spandex costume that covered even the guy’s face. He vaguely recognized the red and blue outfit, but his head was throbbing and he couldn’t quite place it just yet. 

“What happened?” Clint’s voice sounds weird when he can only hear it out of one ear and he starts looking around for his dropped hearing aid.

“I…may have crashed a bit?” The guy’s voice goes higher as if he is simultaneously uncertain of these events and embarrassed.

Clint’s barbecue has overturned and there is half cooked meat and coals strewn about around him. He’s not entirely sure he wants to find his hearing aid in that mess. “What do you mean, crashed?”

The stranger looks uncomfortable and finally shifts so he’s sitting on the edge instead of perching. “I ran outta web fluid. Wasn’t paying attention to what was left. It’s been a hard week.” The guy looks away. At least, Clint thinks he looks away. It’s fairly hard to tell with a mask that covers the eyes so thoroughly.

“Spider-Man.” Clint’s brain finally clicks. He remembered seeing the papers, something about an electrical dude - but he didn’t really read it as he had just come back from Singapore and had hardcore needed a nap. Sleeping had taken priority over catching up on the news.

Spider-Man jerks his head back at the name. “I’m sorry I ruined your cookout.” He stands like he’s going to go but stops and nervously chuckles. “I was just gonna jump. Totally out of web and I -” He scrubs a hand across his eyes, or at least the eyes of his mask.

“You’re hurt.” Clint almost didn’t notice it, but he was Hawkeye for a reason. Red runs down the side of the guy’s calf and blends in almost perfectly with the red of his costume. Clint stands and rights his barbecue as Spider-Man starts inspecting himself for the injury.

“Damn, what is your barbecue made of?” There’s red on the barbecue too, obviously the spot where Spider-Man’s leg had knocked it over during the crash.

Clint can’t be bothered to pick up the meat or the few coals that appear to have been sprayed with the fire extinguisher sitting suspiciously close to Spider-Man. The guy had clearly been worried about a fire and had preemptively taken care of things. For the first time since Clint woke up, he realized he was dusted in the white powder substance himself.

“Come on inside. I’ve got a first aid kit.” Kate actually classified it as a portable hospital, but that wasn’t really important. “I’ll grab you a beer too if you want. 

“I don’t-” Spider-Man paused as he poked at the cut on his thigh. “I don’t wanna bring you any trouble.”

Clint snorted. “I’m not sending you bleeding and unsupplied back out into the city. I don’t have any web stuff, but I’ve got bandaids. Unless you wanna jump off the roof without your webs, let me help you.”

Spider-Man shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “I coulda killed you just now. I’m not good to be around. I bring trouble.”

This time Clint laughed. “You’re looking at the epitome of trouble.” He crossed the roof over to the door and pulled it open. “I’ve done a lot of field surgery in my day. This will be a cinch. Unless you wanna go to a real doctor?” Clint knew most secret identity vigilante types were not overly fond of actual doctors, who tended to want pesky things like names and insurance.

That seemed to do the trick and Spider-Man moved to follow him with a hesitant nod. “Okay.”

The two of them slowly made their way back inside. Spider-Man was quiet as he limped down the stairs after Clint. He hadn’t bothered to lock the door when he’d gone up to grill; if people wanted to steal from him they were going to be severely disappointed in the quality of his stuff.

Spider-Man pauses in the doorway as Clint goes into the kitchen to put on some coffee for himself and grab a beer for Spider-Man. “Make yourself at home, don’t worry about getting blood on anything. I’ve probably bled on it already anyhow.” He doesn’t bother to watch the man’s progress as he moves about the kitchen.

“Sit over there and take off your pants.” Clint motions with the bottle of beer towards the couch. Spider-Man complies as far as sitting on the couch, but he is reluctant to go any further than that.

Clint carries his first aid kit and the beer over to the couch and drops the beverage in Spider-Man’s lap. It’s fumbled for, but doesn’t fall as the man’s fingers clasp the bottle. Clint drops down onto the sofa beside him and turns to look at his leg. “I can’t fix your leg through your costume, kid. Pants. Off.” Spider-Man’s masked head comes up to look at Clint and all but has the wide doe like eyes Clint can only imagine are underneath his disguise. “Look, I don’t care who you are. I just wanna help, okay?”

“But I crashed in to _you_?” Spider-Man’s voice is doing that weak little squeaky thing again and Clint sighs.

“And I’ve slept with someone who came very close to murdering me once upon a time. I’m very forgiving.” He pulls out some of the first aid supplies and raises an eyebrow. “Pants.”

There’s a slight nod and then Spider-Man is setting his beer down on the floor and fumbling at the waist of his costume. His fingers finally hook on the edge of his pants and he shimmies until the pants are pooled at his ankles.

“Why some of you types like this skin tight leotard thing I’ll never know,” Clint mutters as he pokes at the large gash on Spider-Man’s thigh. The cut angles from the tip of the knee up the side of his thigh and stops just shy of the kid’s boxer briefs. “I’m gonna need to put a couple stitches in.”

Spider-Man nods, but is looking decisively uncomfortable with his head turned away from Clint.

“Have you ever had stitches before?”

He shakes his head before he seems to find his voice. “Not like this.”

“You’ll want something stronger than beer then.” Clint stands to go to the kitchen, but delicate red fingers are grabbing his wrist.

“I don’t drink. Just. Just do it.”

Clint nods and sits back down to get to work. He cleans, sews and bandages the wound as quickly as he can and for his part Spider-Man hardly makes a sound. The dressing is a lot nicer than some he’s had to put on Natasha and Clint can’t help but be proud of the fact that this cut will barely scar.

“You want me to wash those?” He gestures to the blood stained pants loose at Spider-Man’s ankles. “Or I’ve got some pants you can borrow.” The kid’s legs are skinny and Clint is pretty sure none of his pants will fit, but it never hurts to offer.

“No. It’s fine.” Spider-Man’s hand drops to his thigh, his fingers splaying over the pristine bandage as Clint packs up the materials and goes to the kitchen. His coffee had finished brewing while he’d been stitching and the aroma hanging in the air could be denied no longer.

He watches the kid sit in silence as he pours himself a cup, but doesn’t bother to offer any. The still untouched beer is sitting at the kid’s feet. There’s the sound of a key in the lock and Clint tenses. Kate steps in a moment later, followed by Lucky who looks like he’s had a long run in the park.

“Barton, it’s your turn to wash that mutt. I’ve walked him for you like seventeen times this week, I’m not adding doggie baths to my chore list.”

“You don’t do chores, Katie Kate.”

Clint turns to watch Lucky sniffing at Spider-Man and smiles as the man gently scratches Lucky behind the ears.

“So what, is this some kind of spider fetish?” Clint tries not to sputter into his coffee as he whirls around to look at Kate eyeballing the kid currently hanging out pantsless in the corner of his apartment.

“What?” Is all he can manage as he dabs at where the coffee has spilt down the front of his tee. 

Kate’s giving him her no nonsense look. “Black Widow, now Spider-Man? I never knew you to charm your way into the pants of another man before, Barton.”

“Omigawd, you know the Black Widow?!” Spider-Man’s voice does that childish squeak thing again as his fingers stop their attention to Lucky’s ears. The dog whines and puts a paw up on his knee to get the scratching back.

“Sweetheart, he’s dating the Black Widow.” Kate has turned her no nonsense look onto Spider-Man now and Clint can see the kid’s jaw working beneath his mask to form words.

“I am not.” He defends himself. He and Natasha were not dating. They weren’t. Dating was what normal people did.

“Sure and I’m not Hawkeye.” Kate rolls her eyes and gathers her things back up from the counter. “I’m gonna let you two have your private time, cause this is 100% not what I want to be a part of. We can reschedule our training.” She wiggles her fingers in some sort of dismissive goodbye as she disappears back out into the hallway.

He’s still looking at the door when he registers that Spider-Man has said something behind him. “Speak up, kid. You knocked out my ear.” Clint turns back to look at Spider-Man.

Spider-Man shrinks into the sofa like an injured puppy before repeating his question with a little more volume “You know _The_ Black Widow?”

“Yeah, what of it?” Clint leans back against the counter and watches Spider-Man’s hands open and close with some sort of spasm that might be excitement. It’s hard to tell emotions on this kid without facial expressions.

“I need. I need to talk to her.” Clint wasn’t expecting that but he didn’t let his face betray his emotions. “I need to talk to the Avengers. I can’t get through to Stark. No one has any contact info for Thor or Hulk. Captain America’s old fan mail address from the forties is so backlogged that no one is probably answering those anymore and Hawkeye and Black Widow are ghosts. Actual ghosts.”

Clint smirked and took another sip of his coffee as Spider-Man went on.

“All this stuff with Electro and the Bugle is starting to get on my case and Gw-” He pauses and looks away, his throat moving below his costume as he swallows. “I just...I need to talk to an Avenger.” His voice has taken another turn, one that practically reeks of despair. “Please. I know I don’t know you. I crashed into you, ruined your dinner. But if you know an Avenger, I really need to talk to one. I’m no good at this.”

“So you pick the Black Widow?” Clint’s voice is even as he watches the kid sniffle and rub his nose through his mask. “How is she supposed to help?”

He can all but hear the tears in the kids eyes when Spider-Man responds again. His voice is so broken there’s no way he’s not crying under there. “I don’t know how to be a superhero. I. I got someone killed.” Spider-Man swallows nervously and looks down. “I keep getting people killed.”

Clint blinks. He’s seen a lot of death and knows how hard it can be when you think it’s your fault. But if there’s one thing he’s had to learn the hard way it’s that you can’t blame yourself for every civilian death. “Accidents happen.”

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say and now the kid is weeping openly on Clint's sofa, which - Spider-Man in his underpants bawling his eyes out - was definitely the most absurd thing Clint could ever think of happening in his apartment.

It’s bottling up 101. Clint knows because he’s damn good at it himself. Conceal don’t feel or whatever that gawd awful song Kate is always singing is. But if you don’t have an outlet you’ll break and that’s exactly what’s happening on Clint’s sofa right now.

He wasn't prepared for this. Obviously things had gotten bad enough that Spider-Man was seeking out help, so Clint was going to oblige him and give proper help. Clint himself was not proper help.

His heart goes out to the kid and he puts his coffee down on the counter and crosses to the wall where the phone is hanging. He dials quickly as he watches Lucky crawl up onto Spider-Man’s lap. There’s no ring and Clint frowns that his phone isn’t working when he remembers that it was the left hearing aid that he lost. When he shifts the phone to his other ear he can hear Steve’s voice repeating himself with a slight concern. “Hello?”

“Hey Cap. I’ve got a bit of a situation over here. Can you assemble some folks and meet me at the tower? I’m bringing someone in.”

“Clint?” Steve’s voice is confused for only a second before he puts on his business voice. “Who do you need?”

“Whoever is around. You. Nat. Not Stark.” Clint turns to look at Spider-Man again as he curls around Lucky. “Not really sure. Could be some sort of PTSD thing going on here." 

He can hear Steve shift the phone to write notes, of course the captain is writing things down. “Hospital?”

“No. This is an Avengers priority. Civilians gotta stay out of this one. I’ll bring him to you guys.”

“Copy that.” He hangs up the phone and Clint turns back to the babbling mess on his couch. Lucky seems to be doing a good enough job taking care of things that he can spare a moment to change out of his fire extinguisher covered clothes and find another hearing aid. The sounds of Spider-Man’s crying can be heard all the way upstairs in his bedroom as he quickly shucks out of his dirty clothes and into some slightly less dirty ones. 

The situation in the living room hasn’t changed when he returns. He throws a hoodie and some workout pants at Spider-Man. “Put these on.” But Spider-Man doesn’t move and really, Clint isn’t surprised.

“Hey. Uh. Spidey?” He sits on the arm of the sofa and hesitantly places a hand on the guy’s back. “I’m gonna take you to the Avengers. But you gotta pull up your pants and then cover your costume with these clothes till we get there. Okay?”

There’s a deep sniffling noise and Spidey nods weakly but doesn’t move. Clint sits with him a moment while he regains his composure. Once Spider-Man seems ready enough to get redressed Clint disappears back to the kitchen. Not that he can’t see the guy from the kitchen but it just helped Clint’s sanity to pretend to be giving him some space.

The hoodie is too big for him and the drawstring on the pants is the only thing keeping the pants on, but it’ll have to do. Lucky doesn’t seem ready to leave Spider-Man’s side and Clint figures another body wouldn’t hurt so the three of them head down to the street to catch a cab.

Spider-Man is silent the whole way and Clint can’t help but wonder how uncomfortable a snot and tear filled mask must be. He never bothers to ask though, instead allowing the ride to pass in silence.

When they arrive Clint pays the cab driver - double fare for letting the dog ride along - and steps out of the car. Lucky bounds up to the door ahead of him and Spider-Man shuffles along slowly behind. Inside the building Spider-Man seems to be focusing much of his effort on following Clint and keeping his pants up and doesn’t bother to look around much as to where they are.

“Welcome back, Agent Barton.” Jarvis greets once they step into the elevator. “Captain Rogers is awaiting you.” Spider-Man startles at that. Whether from the disembodied voice or the declaration that Captain America is awaiting them, Clint can’t be sure. The elevator whisks them up some sixty stories or so before dinging open into the comfy Avengers common room.

Steve is on the couch aimlessly flipping through a magazine while Sam and Natasha shoot pool behind him. Lucky rushes into the room and everyone straightens to see what Clint called them together for.

“Clint.” Steve greets as Lucky bounds up to him excitedly wagging his tail. “Who’s this?”

Clint and Spider-Man step into the room and for the first time since his breakdown Spider-Man seems to actually be paying proper attention. “This is -” Clint trails off, the realization that he doesn’t know the guy’s actual name suddenly dawning on him. “Spider-Man.” He finishes weakly. “He needs some Avengers help.”

Natasha and Sam come from around the pool table to stand next to Steve. “Spider-Man, this is Captain America, Black Widow and Falcon. But I’m sure you knew all that.” He’s glad Steve thought to ask Sam. From what Clint knows of the man, PTSD is a sort of speciality of his.

“Hi Spider-Man.” Steve isn’t phased at not knowing the guy’s name as he steps forward to shake his hand. “I heard you had a problem for the Avengers?”

Even though he’s shaking Captain America’s hand, it is clear that Spider-Man is completely unable to find his voice and so Clint answers for him. “He’s had some difficulty after his latest…” Does he call it a mission? He can’t be sure. Conquest is wrong and Clint struggles.

“Electro?” Sam supplies and of course Sam would have read the papers. “It was good work.” Sam pats Spider-Man on the back as he shakes his hand in greeting. “You did good. 

“There was a ...loss.” Clint manages and Sam and Steve instantly understand. Natasha raises her eyebrow at Clint and he tries to ignore her. Steve guides Spider-Man off and Clint lets them go. He’s done all he can to help 

The three of them disappear into the other room and Clint watches them go as he collapses onto the recently vacated couch beside his dog and lazily scratches Lucky’s head.

“Another stray, Barton?” Natasha drops to sit at his side, one leg tucked under her body as she sits turned towards him and leans against the armrest. “You should open a group home.”

He scowls and turns towards her. “I don’t collect strays.” Her eyebrows shoot up in response. “They find me! That’s not collecting!”

“Methinks he doth protest too much.” She smiles and shakes her head at him, her eyes darting for just a second to the dog on the sofa beside him. “You can’t save everyone, Clint.” 

He drops his head onto the back of the sofa to stare at the ceiling. The familiar words had passed between them countless times but they had always had each other to say them. “He was on his own, Nat. You’ve seen the intel on him. One guy all alone against this giant lizard thing, now that freaky lightshow guy...He could have used our help.” Clint closes his eyes. He remembered being young and alone and on the wrong side of the law. There hadn’t been any supervillains when he’d been running solo. At least, not that he’d gone up against.

He turns to meet her eyes. Natasha’s gaze is steady, direct. Her head slightly cocked in the way that always got Clint to speak his thoughts out loud. Some thoughts he didn't even know he had, until he was saying them. “I was really messed up after. After Loki.” Natasha runs a hand through his hair, her fingernails delicately scratching his scalp. “I would have fallen apart without you guys. Without you.”

She nods and he knows then that she understands. Her hand continues to stroke through his hair and Clint is thankful for it as she pulls his head to her shoulder and he settles against her. “He lost someone, Nat. I didn’t realize the importance of who until it was too late. Can’t even imagine-” He pulls on a thread at the frayed hole in Natasha’s ripped jeans. The slight tug starts to widen the hole in the knee of her pants and she stills his hand before he can unravel the hole further. “He’s all alone already and he lost someone on top of that. We can’t make him be a solo superhero anymore.”

The hand in his hair never stops moving as Natasha picks up his hand with her free one. Their fingers thread together as if its the most natural thing in the world behind holding his bow. “Cap and Sam can relate. They’ll be able to help him.” She mutters into the top of his head reassuringly.

 

`-`-`-`-`

 

The only thing worse than being called out for last minute Avengers emergencies, was being called out before getting the day’s first cup of coffee into his system. But the call had come from Spider-Man which was unusual in and of itself. While the kid had been called to help the Avengers on several occasions, this particular outing marked the first time Spidey himself asked for backup.

Once Clint had arrived on the scene, it was clear why Spider-Man had called the Avengers in. There were some freaky giant robot things with more than enough numbers to give even the Avengers a run for their money.

The industrial area was full of complex machinery that the robots heavily used to their advantage. Whatever their design was, they seemed to draw power from wind and so obviously they were retreating towards a giant cooling fan in one of the buildings. Clint wasn’t really sure how that worked, although he was sure Stark would have a field day with it later.

What he did know was that the wind was the problem and if he could get the fan shut down it would help everyone get back to their days that much faster. He didn’t give it a second thought before he free-ran across the rooftops of the warehouses towards the fan.

An unexpected explosion crumbled most of the roof he had been running across. When he landed, Clint actually wished for some ringing in his ears because it would have meant he hadn’t lost both his hearing aids. Again.

He found himself inside the warehouse jammed between some metal framework and a control panel of some kind, his fingers held on for dear life while his boot smashed into a corner to prevent being ripped away by the powerful wind being generated by the machinery. It’s not an ideal position, but there hadn’t been much choice when he fell.

Clint sees Spider-Man crawling above him and is, for the first time in his life, envious of the kid’s ability to stick to things. The explosion had opened up the intake side of the fan and it pulls anything not otherwise attached into it like a starving person at a buffet.

It takes him a moment to realize that Spider-Man is trying to say something to him and while Clint is used to the kid’s gibberish battle commentary by this point, it seems only fair to let Spidey know he’s lost his aids.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU.” Clint shouts. “SIGN OR LIP READ.” If it’s important then Spider-Man will figure out a way to talk to him. Otherwise Clint is just delaying Spidey’s jokes.

Spider-Man flips over so his back is against the ceiling and Clint shakes his head at how well the guy is sticking when suddenly the other man is ripping up part of his mask. Unexpectedly, the whole thing is ripped away by the wind and for the first time since their meeting that night on the roof eight months ago Clint is actually seeing the kid’s full face. He stares at the upside down face of a much younger kid than he ever anticipated. A much younger kid than he ever would have guessed based on the attitude and vocabulary 

“Don’t move.” It’s really hard to read the lips upside down and Clint wishes Spidey would turn his body around so it would be easier. Instead of telling him so, he just decides to respond to Spider-Man’s asinine instruction.

“NO SHIT!”

The kid’s eyes narrow at him and his lips move again. But the sight of Clint’s bow catches his eye and he can’t be bothered to read Spidey’s lips. He watches as his bow comes free from where it had been caught and bounces towards the super sized blender. There’s a pain deep in his gut as his bow gets sucked away and chopped up by the fan.

Clint closes his eyes in grief when there’s suddenly a wad of something smacking him in the cheek. Startled, he looks up to see Spidey still hanging over him, the kid’s dark brown hair blowing with the wind. “DID YOU JUST WEB ME IN THE FACE?”

“Stop. Make.” He’s over exaggerating his words and Clint isn’t sure if that’s a blessing or a curse. Either way it doesn’t make sense.

“WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?” Spider-Man points to Clint’s stomach, which is probably what he was saying now that Clint thinks about it and he notices for the first time the large hunk of metal currently impaling him. “FUCK!”

The metal is pretty far off to the side and with the right amount of force it could probably tear sideways out of him. Now that he’s looking at it, he can’t help but wonder why it’s not hurting. Spider-Man looks like he might be sick and if Clint wasn’t busy trying not to get sucked into a giant fan he’d be right there with him.

“SPIDEY. WEB ME DOWN. FIND KATE.” He releases one hand from where it was clinging. “KEEP THIS IN PLACE.” And points to the metal sticking out of him.

Spider-Man still looks green, but listens and coats Clint’s injury and torso in spiderweb to secure him in place. Once that’s done, Clint’s legs get stuck down and Clint makes a killing motion before his arms get stuck down too. Clint will need his arms.

“GET THAT COVERED!” He’s glad when Spider-Man doesn’t try to swing away, but instead crawls. Sometimes he forgets how smart the kid is. Clint cranes his neck to look for Kate, but he can’t get a fix on her from his position. That’s not a surprise, though, as she’s supposed to be on the roof and far away from this giant fucked up fan of death.

The rest of the team would have heard the explosion from outside. Unfortunately without his hearing aid or comm he has no way to communicate with them. He can see Spider-Man make an attempt at webbing some large pieces of debris across the opening, but there’s nothing big enough to fully cover the hole.

Something purple catches his eye and if he really wrenches his neck back he can just barely see Kate holding on to the ground. She’s struggling and keeps losing ground as the suction of the fan drags her closer and closer. Spider-Man is too far away to get to her directly and he attempts to web her down too. Between the distance and the wind he misses. Badly.

Clint reaches for his quiver to see what he has that might help prevent her from getting sucked in. There’s nothing. The entire thing is empty. All his arrows sucked away when he fell. “KATE!” Her name tears from his throat as his panic rises the closer she gets to the fan.

Spider-Man keeps trying to web Kate down, his aim adjusting every time he misses, but Kate is moving too and it’s not helping anything. Finally Spidey gets a lucky shot in. Kate’s ankle is stuck down. Her body torques weirdly from the anchor point of her ankle and she appears to cry out in pain. Thankfully, Spidey’s webbing held. 

She can see Clint just enough to make eye contact and when she reaches back to grab her bow he almost cries in joy that she has managed to hold on to it. Her hair is blowing around her face and obscuring her vision, but she sits up and nocks an arrow. She’s shooting towards the fan and with that much wind power she’ll hit her mark as long as Spidey’s attempts to block the hole don’t get in her way. But she is Hawkeye and Clint has watched her perfect her archery over their time together. He knows she’ll make the shot. 

The arrow sails through the air. It’s speed doubled by the powerful gusts. Just as it is about to hit the fan there is another explosion. This one is from Kate’s arrow and Clint has to shut his eyes to avoid the brightness of the detonation. He can feel the wind die down around him and knows Kate has accomplished her goal. So long as the team outside can finish off the twelve foot robot goons, then they should be able to call it a day.

Spider-Man is suddenly standing at his feet, the kid’s body posture reeks of uncertainty. “What’s the status outside?” Clint half yells at him, unsure what the volume is in the room now that the fan is down. Spidey jumps at how loud he is, but settles surprisingly quick.

Clint waits while Spidey looks to Kate, who is apparently the only one in the room who still has a comm before turning back to answer. “Helped. They’re getting there. Sit tight.” is all that he picks up when he reads Spider-Man’s lips. But it’s enough.

Spider-Man reacts suddenly as one of the workers from inside the building makes himself known with a pathetic attempt at an attack. Clint simply lays and watches as the guy gets webbed promptly to the wall. Spidey isn’t messing around as he over attaches the guy without even taking a step from where he’s standing at Clint’s feet.

“Clear?” Clint half shouts at him as he watches the boy’s eyes scan the room for additional threats. He only gets a nod in return.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, the adrenaline finally fading to a point that all he can think about is the pain in his stomach. “I’m gonna pass out now.” He thinks he mutters aloud before doing exactly that.

 

`-`-`-`-`

 

Clint wakes up in medical and finds himself completely alone. The room is silent and dark so if Clint had to guess, he’d assume it was night time. Of course there are no windows so he can’t actually be sure.

In his solitude, Clint tries to take stock of his body. There’s obviously some bandage wrapped around his middle and the drugs are good enough that he’s able to disassociate himself from any pain that he ought to be feeling. Everything else is superficial. Cuts or scrapes here and there, a bruise that might actually be from their last mission. Nothing serious. 

He looks up as the door opens and for a moment there’s light from the hallway spilling into his room. Natasha enters with two cups of coffee in her hand. “Oh thank god,” he mutters as she hands him one. It’s black and tastes just like the disgusting sludge he’s come to expect from the nurses’ station.

She sits on the end of his bed and pulls her legs up to lay alongside his. One of her hands gently rests on his ankle as they both sip their coffee. There are no words between them as she finishes her drink and places the empty cup on the bed next to his foot.

“What happened?” She asks. Her hands working swiftly in the darkened room as she signs.

“They must have seen me,” he says, hating the way his voice doesn’t sound without his ears. “Blew the ground right out from under me.”

“We told him not to go.” She signs to him. He doesn’t need to ask who. Spider-Man had been assigned to the other side of the battlefield. Kate had been told to hold her position on the roof. When the place had blown he had been worried the integrity of the ground beneath her had collapsed too. “Didn’t think we needed to tell Bishop not to. She broke her ankle going in after you.”

“They’re idiots.” He grins as he forces himself to swallow more of the coffee. It burnt going down.

“They’re your idiots.” She shakes her head. “That’s why you like them.”

“What’s that say about you?” He snorts. Natasha responds by pinching his shin.

She leans forward and takes his coffee from him. There was no way he was going to finish it anyways. He still can’t help but look at it longingly as she places it on the side table before settling herself back at the foot of the bed.

“They saved your life.” She signs slowly. “They saved everyone.”

“They’re good kids.” He signs back. He’s done using his voice now that his hands are free.

“I’m gonna start calling you Papa Barton.”

“Oh gross. Don’t do that.” He speaks without meaning to, his face contorting in disgust.

“I hear there’s a girl in Jersey running solo. Maybe you could adopt her too." 

He frowns at her and lets his fingers fly as he signs back. “I did not adopt them. Shut up.”

“They look up to you. God knows why.” She grins at him devilishly on that last bit and he smacks the tip of her shoe in playful anger.

They sit for a moment in the dark, neither one of them bothering to say anything. Whatever meds he is on are encouraging him to fall back asleep and it’s a struggle to keep his eyes open. Natasha crawls up the side of his bed and tucks herself on the side opposite his injury cradled by his arm.

Her hair tickles his nose when he turns his head towards her, but he can’t be bothered to care as he inhales the scent of her shampoo. The meds have almost won when he feels her hand on his chest, her fingers slowly spelling out something letter by letter against his body. 

“I’m glad.” Is all she says. He scrunches his face as he tries to pick out exactly what she’s glad about. Glad they saved him? Glad he took them in? It takes him a moment to realize the vagueness of it might be the point.

The room floods with light as the door opens again and Clint squints at the intruding figure. A disheveled and still unmasked Spider-Man stands there, his hair sticking every which way as if it hasn’t been combed since the near miss with the fan. The kid looks incredibly uncomfortable when he sees Natasha curled up against Clint and looks back out into the hallway.

Clint can’t sign with Natasha laying on his arm and he’s sick of talking when he can’t hear himself so he simply quirks an eyebrow at Spider-Man expectantly. Spidey’s hand goes to the back of his neck as his face scrunches in uncertainty. He feels Natasha say something, but Clint can’t read her lips from the angle he has.

Clint keeps his eyes focused on Spider-Man’s lips as much as he can with the drugs, fortunately Spidey speaks slowly. “I thought you said you weren’t dating the Black Widow?” Natasha’s hand tenses where it is laying on Clint’s hospital gown and Clint blinks in surprise.

Kate appears in the doorway behind him. Her crutches catch the light of the overly bright hallway and Clint frowns as it reflects into his eyes. Somehow Lucky is sitting beside her and how she got the dog into the hospital, Clint really doesn’t wanna know.

He is unable to follow both their lips at the same time, as the two are clearly arguing over something. “She can’t even walk.” He picks up from Spider-Man.

“He murdered my fight cuss,” is what Clint thinks Kate says, but maybe she’s talking about that weird plant she’d brought over to his apartment last time he’d been laid up, whose name he’d never learned to pronounce. 

Lucky apparently decides that’s enough of that and dashes into the room to jump onto Clint’s bed. He curls up at Clint and Natasha’s feet and rests his head on Clint’s shin. Both Spider-Man and Kate seem to be trying to get Lucky to go with them and with a sigh Clint looks down at Natasha’s smiling face.

“You were right,” he mutters to Natasha. “Maybe I should open a home.”


End file.
